


Seasons Greetings

by Dizzojay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Drabble Collection, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, One Shot Collection, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzojay/pseuds/Dizzojay
Summary: A collection of drabbles, poems and little one shots celebrating a Supernatural Christmas.Strong emphasis on humour, crack, fluff and friendship.Warnings for the occasional naughty word





	1. He's Making a List, He's Checking it Twice ...

HE'S MAKING A LIST, HE'S CHECKING IT TWICE

Not everyone knows that Santa keeps an eye on big kids as well as little ones ... we join Santa as he's putting the finishing touches to his list. With a little encouragement.

PART ONE

xxxxx

Child's name: Winchester, Dean

Age: Thirty

Noteworthy examples of naughtiness:

(Further details can be found in pages 1 – 347 of annex A)  
(See annex B for illustrations)  
Lying, stealing, gambling, fornication, fighting, alcohol consumption, constant use of foul language, gluttonous appetite and sibling cruelty (see Page 125, clause 6 of annex A; 'the noodle incident')

Honest admissions of bad behaviour:

Grudgingly confessed to surfing porn on brother's laptop only after said brother pinned him down and administered chinese burns.  
Immediately withdrew confession citing the anti-torture clause of the Geneva Convention.  
Continuously.  
For three weeks.  
Brother eventually returned laptop and invited him to surf porn just to shut him up.

Examples of niceness:

Hunts evil, saves lives.  
Kind to children, animals and pretty ladies.  
Exhibits a suicidally reckless instinct to protect his brother who is built like the Rock of Gibraltar so therefore doesn't need protecting at all.  
Takes good care of toys (car)

Special considerations:

Tragic life/questionable role model

Old enough to know better?

He's thirty.  
(See page 86, clause 12b of annex A; 'won't ever learn'.)

Pass/reject:

Visit Rudolph's stall to fill this one's stocking ...  
... or, given that he's threatening to microwave one of my elves; pass.

Gift:

Cherry Pie  
Giant slinky

xxxxx

PART TWO

xxxxx

Child's name: Winchester, Sam

Age: Twenty six

Noteworthy examples of naughtiness:

Lying, stealing (prone to being led astray by older brother).  
One notable use of foul language (see 'the noodle incident')

Honest admissions of bad behaviour:

Courageously confessed to accidentally scratching brother's car due to careless parking because he believed it was' the right thing to do.'  
Unfortunately not optimistic he will continue to hold that view after having his head flushed down the toilet.  
Monitor situation in future years.

Examples of niceness:

Hunts evil, saves lives.  
Kind and sensitive to victims of supernatural trauma.  
Eats healthily, lives a virtuous lifestyle (insofar as that is possible – see 'prone to being led astray' above)  
Kind to children and animals.  
Polite and courteous to all ladies; even ones he doesn't want to sleep with.  
Amazingly, loves his brother

Special considerations:

Tragic life/victim of demonic manipulation

Old enough to know better?

Yes; and does try hard in the face of insurmountable opposition (see Winchester, Dean).

Pass/reject:

Pass; making the effort to be good is as important as the act itself.  
Besides, that bitchface could curdle eggnog. I'm not upsetting this one.

Gift:

New laptop.  
Electric cattle-prod to keep brother away from it.

xxxxx

end


	2. A Bad Day for Rudolph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dizzoesque twist on the much-loved Christmas song; it's been a bad day for Rudolph.

A BAD DAY FOR RUDOLPH

xxxxx

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer

Had a very shiny nose

But Dean still didn't see him

As he landed in the road

xxxxx

Dean only heard the clatter

As he bounced off Baby's hood

And Dean uttered lots of rude words

Just as we all know he would

xxxxx

Santa climbed down off his sleigh

Stomped crossly through the snow

"Rudolph's dazed, he's not alright

Who'll lead my freakin' sleigh tonight?

xxxxx

So that's how they all saved Christmas

For gleeful children near and far

And nobody knew the secret

Of two guys and their big black car

xxxxx

end


	3. Away in a Manger - Supernatural Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If spoofs of religious songs trouble you, please do not read. I have no wish to offend.

AWAY IN A MANGER - Supernatural Style

 

xxxxx

It couldn't get stranger,

the ghost's got no head,

Dean gives it the bitchface,

"what's dead should stay dead!"

Sam loads up the salt rounds,

and gives it a blast,

Dean gives it a send-off,

The pain in the ass.

xxxxx

In pain and in danger,

Dean dreams of his bed,

Somewhere to rest,

and lay down his sore head.

But Sammy is there to,

Make the pain go away,

A cool hand and kind words,

To make it okay.

xxxxx

The unlucky park ranger,

Found a black dog last night,

But a good iron dagger,

Makes everything right.

Some cold beers are reward,

For a good hard days work,

And the bitch, he can pay,

For himself and his jerk.

xxxxx

end


	4. Christmas with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's having a merry Christmas - sort of.

CHRISTMAS WITH FRIENDS

xxxxx

Dean was glad he and Sam had accepted Ellen's invitation to spend Christmas at the Roadhouse.  
Surrounded by twinkling lights and glittering stars, and with bellies full from a massive meal, an air of tranquil contentment filled the room  
Dean watched, from under pleasantly heavy eyelids, as Jo opened his gift to her; the latest REO album. She smiled broadly and leaned in to kiss his cheek in thanks.  
He sighed inwardly; he knew what gift he'd really like to give her for Christmas.  
The only trouble is there'd be two more balls hanging on the Christmas tree if Ellen ever found out.

xxxxx

end


	5. Merry Kiss-mas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been exploring the Bunker's vaults again, there will be consequences. For someone.

MERRY KISS-MAS

xxxxx

It wasn't unusual for Dean to go exploring in the bunker's labyrinthine vaults when he had nothing better to do.

The trouble was, when he did, it rarely ended well.

And when a starry-eyed Dean pranced up the steps from the deepest vault clutching a sprig of enchanted mistletoe above his head and lunged toward Sam, planting a smacking wet kiss on his shocked face with the force of a sink plunger, Sam knew that this particular time was no different

He also knew he was going to have to get a goddamn padlock for the door to those freakin' vaults.

xxxxx

Still seeing stars through oxygen deprivation, Sam squirmed away from Dean's loving embrace.

He thought swiftly; he would need time and space to research this thing, and he would have neither with his lovelorn brother climbing all over him.

That was when an idea sprung into his mind.

Quickly grabbing his cellphone as he backpedalled from Dean's advancing form, he punched in a brief text.

'Cas, please get here – Dean needs yr help.'

Send!

Yes okay, it was a shitty thing to do.

But someone was going to have to take one for Team Free Will.

xxxxx

end


	6. Oh, Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something catches Dean's attention. wee!Dean or Adult Dean? You decide ...

OH CHRISTMAS TREE

xxxxx

Dean stumbled to a halt on the snow-caked sidewalk and turned, peering intently into the shop window.

Palms and nose pressed against the plate glass, he stared, mouth agape in wonder, up at the beautiful Christmas tree that stood there in front of him. He barely blinked as its myriad of twinkling lights shimmered in his wide moss-green eyes.

The sheer joy of beholding its sparkling array of gold and silver decorations warred inside him with the profound regret that this was something he could never have.

But he could still look.

No-one could take that away from him.

xxxxx

end


	7. Season's Greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've gone all meta on you! The boys address their fans, but one of them is finding it a bit difficult to enter into the festive spirit.

SEASON'S GREETINGS

xxxxx

"Hello."

"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We're here to wish you all happy holidays."

*sullen silence*

"Say hello to the nice fanfiction writers, Dean."

"humph"

*nudge*

"Dean; say hello!"

*Eye roll*

"Hello. Nice. Fan. Fiction. Writers ... there, satisfied?"

"DEAN!"

*scowl*

"Jus' don' see why I gotta wish happy holidays to a bunch of people who spend the whole year beatin' and humiliatin' me."

"I don't see the problem bro', you've paid good money for that sort of thing before."

*snort*

"Yeah, well, you go ahead an' wish 'em happy holidays but tell 'em I don't wanna be in anyone's Christmas stockin', or under their friggin' tree and I don't wanna jump out of anyone's cake singin' Jingle Bells, oh, an' FYI; I especially don't wanna do any of those things NAKED!"

"Dean, just be nice," *looks around shiftily* "I don't think it's wise to antagonise them."

"Why?"

"Because one of them's writing us right now ... and she's been at the Pinot Grigio."

...

*Dizzo takes a sip; grins an evil grin ...*

...

"Uh Sam?"

"Yes dude."

"We're wearin' red satin thongs with white fur trim and sparkly mistletoe motif."

"Yes dude."

"An' nothing else."

"Yes dude."

*sigh*

"HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!"

xxxxx

end

read.

Lots of love, Dizzo x


	8. The Night before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knew that she was special, his kickass, awesome car ...

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

xxxxx

Dean knew that she was special; his kickass, awesome car,  
His baby gleamed much brighter than any shooting star,  
The brothers were a double act and 'Baby', she made three,  
And one bleak Christmas Eve showed just how special she could be.

xxxxx

She'd hunted with the Winchesters for twenty years or more,  
She'd seen wickedness and evil; monsters by the score,  
She'd been broken down and dirty, she'd had her share of dents,  
Plus a little puff of faerie dust which blew into her vents.

xxxxx

She'd clung onto it jealously, not giving it away,  
That little speck of magic saved for a rainy day,  
Across the years she kept it, a secret, silent ploy,  
For the time that she could use it to help her precious boys.

xxxxx

As the brothers slept this Christmas Eve, slumped into her seat,  
Lonely, cold and hurting, without anything to eat,  
Parked up in the pouring rain, she made a silent vow,  
This night they needed Christmas cheer - that rainy day was now.

xxxxx

Her headlamps flickered into life, blazing hot and bright,  
Cutting through the darkness like two beacons in the night,  
She released the wisp of faerie dust and watched it rise and spread,  
And illuminate a magic sleigh that was soaring overhead.

xxxxx

The faerie dust, it glittered there in Santa's pure white beard,  
And glowed like shining starlight on the coats of his reindeer,  
He looked down through the rainclouds upon Baby's sleek, black hood,  
And he saw that she was helping two lost souls he knew were good.

xxxxx

She suddenly felt weightless, rising up into the sky,  
And there beneath the moonlight she found out that she could fly,  
And when she finally alighted, without the slightest sound,  
There was snow falling around her and carpeting the ground.

xxxxx

It twinkled and it glinted, so crystalline and bright,  
Covering her rooftop with an irridescent light,  
The elves ran out to greet her and they opened up her doors,  
And watched two sleeping hunters tumble out onto the floor.

xxxxx

"… the hell?" Dean gasped in disbelief, and brushed snow from his arms,  
As he looked to find his brother sitting safely and unharmed,  
The elves all spoke in chorus, as they pulled them to their feet,  
"Somebody who loves you thinks that you deserve a treat."

xxxxx

Staring at each other, the brothers gaped in awe,  
At this scene so much more beautiful than any seen before,  
Despite the chill around them they felt blanketed with love,  
As they stood and watched the northern lights dance silently above.

xxxxx

The elves led them to a cottage with a table laden high,  
A banquet of roast turkey and of giant cherry pie,  
With eggnog flowing freely and cold beer to quench their thirst,  
The brothers feasted cheerfully til they were fit to burst.

xxxxx

Suddenly a voice rang out, melodious and low,  
Across the brothers' noisy cheer and chuckled, "ho ho ho",  
As Santa's gifts, all gaily wrapped, were passed to Sam and Dean,  
Of books and socks and candy bars and naughty magazines.

xxxxx

And Impala stood and waited til the dark gave way to light,  
And she listened to the laughter that drifted through the night,  
The music and the singing and the voices of her boys,  
As she pictured both their faces glowing bright with Christmas joys.

xxxxx

Dawn was breaking at the roadside as the brothers both awoke,  
Sitting in Impala, and neither of them spoke,  
As they looked at all their presents, then each other, faces blank,  
Dean gently squeezed her steering wheel. He knew who they should thank.

xxxxx

end


	9. Hark the Hammered Angel Sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels and Eggnog should never mix.

HARK THE HAMMERED ANGEL SINGS

xxxxx

Sitting with the Winchesters at their dinner table, Castiel merrily swirled his half-drained glass of eggnog around.

"It's only meeeeeeee … " he sang, slurring obnoxiously.

Sam glared at Dean; "you know he hardly ever drinks; why did you give him that third glass?"

"It's Christmas," Dean replied, his eyes twinking brightly with pure mischief; "even angels can let go at Christmas".

"… from over the seeeeeeeeeeea …"

"As well as all the brandy you put in the Christmas cake," Sam scolded; "no wonder he's plastered."

Dean smirked.

"… said Bollocky Bill the Sailor …"

"And who the hell's been teaching him songs like that?"

xxxxx

end


	10. Present Unpleasant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas, and Dean's made a slight error of judgement.

PRESENT UNPLEASANT

xxxxx

The Winchesters stood and stared down at the huge expanse of green velvet pooled at their feet. Discarded in the middle of it, a golden cup lay forlornly amidst a puddle of mead, alongside a now-ownerless coronet of holly and mistletoe.

Slowly moving forward, they stepped across miles of ermine trim, to take a closer look at their handiwork, inhaling the heady scents of cinnamon and nutmeg in the smoke that drifted around them.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

"What?" Dean grunted in response, stumbling over a cluster of stray walnuts.

"Did you actually mean to gank the Ghost of Christmas Present?"

xxxxx

end


	11. The Spirit of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes in many forms when you're a Winchester.

THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

xxxxx

On Christmas day, when the sun rides low in the sky and its setting fire casts shadows which flicker and dance across the Impala's roof;  
When the December chill reddens your nose and turns your breath to ghostly dancers;  
When frost glistens like glass across Baby's hood, and chills your butt when you sit too long;  
When starlight reflects in your brother's eyes as he smiles, and you know he likes your gift, modest as it is;  
When the clink of your beer bottles echoes across the crisp night air;  
Occasionally, just occasionally, Christmas is an awesome time to be a Winchester.

xxxxx

end


	12. Whoops!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Winchester Christmas; surely everything will go to plan, won't it?

WHOOPS!!

xxxxx

Dean rolled the impala to a halt in front of the bunker, and hopped out of the driver's door. His giddy, pre-Christmas excitement was plain to see.

"C'mon Sam," he coaxed, yanking open the passenger door; "shake a leg and help me unload all this stuff; I wanna start our Christmas celebrations before midnight!"

"Yeah, okay Dean," Sam responded hesitantly, stepping out of the car; "I've got the beer here and the chips, but I can't help thinking we've forgotten something."

"Ah, quit worrying," Dean grinned, peering around the Impala's open trunk as he rummaged within; "we haven't forgotten anything. I've arranged this supply run with military precision."

He began unloading the packed trunk, calling out each item as he went. "Turkey, potatoes, cranberry jelly, eggnog, pie, more pie, cakes, cookies, wine, cola, TV guide, paper napkins, carrots, that green shit you wanted, bread, cheese and toilet rolls."

Sam checked through the accumulating sprawl of bags, his brow furrowing in concern as Dean continued unloading an impressive collection of gifts from the Impala's seemingly bottomless trunk.

"Dean, honestly, I'm convinced we've forgotten something."

Dean dumped a plastic bag full of wrapping paper and Christmas cards on the ground at Sam's feet with a long sigh.

"Heck Sam, look at this lot," he gestured expansively across the mass of purchases which covered the ground around them; "how can we have possibly forgotten anything? I've even remembered to get indigestion tablets!"

Sam scratched his head absently; "I don't know, I just got this feeling …"

"Well, keep your friggin' feelings to yourself Samantha. Help me get all this inside, then we'll get the Christmas tree; it's on the back seat with …"

They both peered through the rear window onto the impala's back seat.

"…CAS! Oh, crap … we left him back at the mall!"

xxxxx

end


	13. The Customer is always Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel goes Christmas shopping, (point of view of a shop assistant trying to help him buy Dean the perfect gift).

THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS … WEIRD

xxxxx

It's been a busy day here at Main Street Department Store. It's two weeks before Christmas, and don't I know it!

I feel wrecked; my feet are aching, and so's my back - along with pretty much every other part of me. I'm hot and exhausted, but it looks like the Christmas shopping rush is dying down for today – finally!

It's 7.45 pm. Fifteen minutes - fifteen glorious minutes - and then I can go home; I think I've earned a glass of wine tonight.

Closing my eyes, I stretch, rolling my neck to try to ease some of the tension out of my shoulders; damn, that feels good.

Although when open my eyes, the tension pings straight back in there, because I do a double take; somehow, right across the counter in front of me, there's a man standing there. Where the heck he came from, I've no idea. He's got this shock of jet black bed hair and he's staring at me with these big soulful eyes – jeez, I've never seen such deep blue eyes, and sad too - he looks like someone's just run over his puppy.

The other thing I can't help but notice is this stupid trenchcoat he's wearing. It certainly isn't one of our lines - it looks like it was made to measure for Quasimodo's little brother.

Oh well, I guess I'm still on the clock for another fifteen – no, make that fourteen - minutes, so I'd better see what he wants.

"Hello sir," I flash my most professional smile.

"Hello," he replies hesitantly.

After a few seconds during which we stand and stare expectantly at each other, I decide that this one's either the strong, silent type or the 'afraid of women' shy nerdy type - I suspect the latter. Either way, I need to move this along.

"Uh, can I help you sir?"

His shoulders appear to slump a little as he answers; "I do not know."

D'you know what? Forget the glass, I'll just have the bottle.

I stifle a sigh, dredging up every interminable minute of customer care training I've ever endured, and try a different tack; "what can I help you with, sir?"

A hint of a relieved smile plays on the guy's face. "I would like to buy a Christmas gift for my friend," he states bluntly, adding a shy "thank you."

"Okay," I begin hesitantly, gesturing around the ten thousand four hundred and twenty seven different items of stock we have on display around the store (I learned that in customer care training too); "have you seen anything you like?"

"I understand that the purpose of buying a Christmas gift is that it should be something the recipient likes, not the purchaser," he replies uncertainly.

"Uh, well yes, but …" I begin, floundering to make my point understood; "but if you know the friend well enough, then you'll know when you see something that they would like."

His brow furrows into a constipated frown as he ponders on my explanation. God help me, but I'm starting to feel sorry for him.

"Okay, so let's start at the beginning," I suggest as brightly as I can manage; "is your friend a man or a woman?"

"He is a man," he responds confidently; "his name is Dean."

"Okay," I reply, "that's good, that narrows it down for us. And you and this Dean - are you close friends?"

He nods, "yes, we share a profound bond."

"Ah, okay," I flick him a knowing glance; "I'm getting it now."

"So," I ask; "how about clothes?" I gesture toward the sign that points toward mens' outfitting; "what sort of things does Dean like to wear?"

He pauses, thinking far harder than I would have thought necessary for such a simple question.

"He likes to wear T-shirts and jeans," he eventually responds with a triumphant nod.

Well, that was hardly worth all the brainpower he committed to it.

"Sometimes," he continues out of the blue; "he has to wear costumes. He doesn't like doing it, but his brother makes him do it because it is more authentic when they have to go out and probe people."

"Oh," is about all I can manage right now; "uh, okay … no costumes then."

He shakes his head; "I am friends with Dean's brother too. When we are together as a threesome, I watch over them when they sleep."

There's a brief moment's silence while my mind tries to process the direction this conversation is heading and fails miserably. All I know is that one bottle of wine won't be nearly enough.

"But my true bond is with Dean;" he continued; "I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition."

"Right …"

I know it's rude to stare, really I do, but I just can't help it.

I clear my throat before attempting to continue our conversation. "What about something personal then," I ask, choosing my words carefully; "might Dean like that?"

He cocks his head like some kind dopey Labrador; there's that furrowed brow again. Really? Am I speaking Swahili?

"I do not know what you mean by personal," he murmurs, those vivid blue eyes boring into me like he's trying to read my thoughts – God help me if he did.

"I know Dean is fond of his personal space;" he explains, completely not getting what I just suggested; "he is always shouting about it, particularly when I get too close; like the time he was in the shower and …"

"Okay, OKAY, right, yes … no," I squeak; "I meant personal from you to him, like jewellery – a watch or something!"

"Oh," he goes momentarily silent again; "Dean already has a watch," he eventually replies glumly.

"Right," I sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes; "of course he does."

I glance at my own watch. Has only four minutes gone by? I feel like I've aged five years.

"What about music?" I ask, wincing at the edge of desperation creeping into my voice; "perhaps some music that he likes?"

The guy nods approvingly at my suggestion, and my hopes rise briefly.

"He likes rock music," he announces; "he listens to it when he's in his baby."

"Pardon?"

"His baby," they guy repeats, as if I should know exactly what he's talking about; "she's forty seven years old and black and Dean thinks she's beautiful." A faint smile crosses his face; "she is quite beautiful, I guess. Dean's brother often gets in his baby too. So do I, but I always have to go in the back."

For the first time, choking on my tongue becomes a very real possibility. Ten thousand four hundred and twenty seven different items of stock and I can't think of a single thing that I could recommend to this guy.

He's standing there looking at me so hopefully, like I'm his font of all knowledge.

There's not enough wine in the world …

"Movies?" I suggest weakly; "or TV shows he likes, could you buy him a box set?"

… Please, I add silently.

"I am not familiar with a lot of the TV he watches," he replies; "it is difficult for me to comprehend." He shoots me a look of such intensity, I feel my heart sink; "I mean, I can understand that the lady would remove all her clothes before the pizza man arrived, so that she wouldn't get tomato stains down them, but surely the hot pizza topping would have scalded her while the pizza man was eating it off of her …"

"Toiletries?" I almost shout; "cologne or fragrance or after shave lotion, does he like that sort of thing?"

I get the furrowed brow again; "He does wear a fragrance," he eventually replies; "the smell is not unpleasant, its scent suggests a molecular structure based on musk and sandalwood with a hint of leather and citron. I saw him applying it to his face that time in the shower when I …"

"Okay, okay," I snap, waving my hands in front of his face to try to get his attention; "I get it."

"And he uses an antiperspirant called 'Stud', which he sprays under his arms." The guy continues, seemingly oblivious to my desperate attempts to get him to shut the hell up; "it has the scent of cinnamon and pine needles. I remember that because after he yelled at me about his personal space, he threw the can at me and it left a bruise on my forehead."

Feeling my will to live slipping away, I nod silently. The English language has failed me miserably in this conversation from the far side with trenchcoat guy, so I give up on using it.

"It may not be wise for me to select a fragrance for a gift, however," he continues, presumably not hearing the whimper that I let out, despite myself. "I believe Dean's skin must be very sensitive; when I gripped him tight, I did not realise how fragile he was, and I left handprints on his skin which did not fade for a very long time. That was at the same time that he said I had restored his virginity, but I do not know how that could have happened because I did not grip him anywhere near his …

"SECURITY!"

xxxxx

end


	14. A Winchester Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Winchester Christmas meal, and everyone's included - even if you don't fit around the dinner table.

A WINCHESTER CHRISTMAS

xxxxx

The Winchesters' dinner table told the story of a well-enjoyed Christmas meal.

Piles of empty plates and half-drained glasses surrounded a turkey carcass, picked clean by the three figures who sat around it, contentedly nursing full bellies and blossoming hangovers.

Castiel smiled crookedly as Sam let out a soft burp.

The air of sated contentment was abruptly disturbed as Dean stood, quietly excusing himself and picking up his beer bottle before leaving the room.

Outside, he carefully poured a quart of premium grade Pennzoil into Baby's engine and tapped his bottle against her open hood.

"Merry Christmas Baby," he murmured.

xxxxx

end


	15. Almost Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Christmas creation is perfect. Almost.

ALMOST PERFECT

xxxxx

"Here y' go little bro', here's my 'Dean Winchester special' Christmas recipe hot chocolate; four parts hot chocolate, one part brandy, a hint – or maybe more than a hint - of rum and infused with a few secret herbs and spices. It's topped with a layer of marshmallows and a great big, naughty splurge of whipped cream, with a good dash of vanilla essence, way too many chocolate sprinkles and, just for good measure, a little old cinnamon stick."

"Wow, thanks Dean, that looks spectacular. You did make the hot chocolate with skimmed milk, didn't you?"

"… Oh nuts!"

xxxxx

end


	16. Sprouts Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one aspect of a traditional Christmas dinner that Dean can't get on board with.

SPROUTS OUT ...

xxxxx

"No way Sam."  
"Go on Dean, it's Christmas, just try them."  
"No, they taste like garbage."  
"And how would you know what garbage tastes like?"  
"Never mind smartass; they're green and evil and I don't even know why you've polluted my Christmas dinner with them."  
"They're full of iron."  
"And you're full of shit."  
"Dean, just eat the goddamn Brussels sprouts."  
"No, they're just wrong, Sam; WRONG."  
"Damnit Dean, stop being such a … "

*PARP*

"… oh, sorry, excuse me!"  
"I told you Sam, the friggin' things are EVIL … damnit, where's the air freshener?"

xxxxx

end


	17. Pudding!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's ideas for a new Christmas treat meet a probably not entirely unexpected hitch.

PUDDING!

xxxxx

Sam's shoulders slumped as he stood staring forlornly at the incinerated remains of the table where he, Dean and Castiel had, but a moment ago, been sitting; the three of them merrily tucking into Christmas dinner.

He stood beside the smouldering crater where it used to be, along with a moderately singed, scowling brother and a smoke-damaged and newly-eyebrowless angel, coughing through the blue haze of smoke which coiled lazily around the room.

Closing his eyes, he sighed as the blackened shell of the bunker's Christmas tree crumbled into ash behind him.

He'd thought it would be cool to try something new for Christmas, and the idea had come from an article in the recipes section of the local newspaper. Christmas pudding soaked in flaming brandy was, apparently, a British treat and Sam had been intrigued; especially as the article included a mouth-watering picture of a rich, succulent pudding topped with dancing blue flames and surrounded by a riot of brightly coloured fruit and berries.

It looked delicious and fun, and very, very indulgent. Even better, it looked easy to make.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, for a start, you could be stupid enough to put Dean in charge of the flaming.

xxxxx

end


	18. Pudding Reloaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's quest for a traditional Christmas in the bunker continues ...

PUDDING! RELOADED

xxxxx

*Munch…munch…munch*

*Slurp…gulp ...*

"Say, Sam, this Christmas pudding is freakin' awesome; I say we have Christmas pudding every year!"

"Glad it's such a hit."

"In fact, I think we should stock up and keep some here in the bunker's larder so that we can have it any time we li …"

*GULP!*

*hack…hack…hack … gasp … koff…ackackack …*

"Dean?"

*Koffkoffkoff …*

"DEAN?"

*gasp ...*

"Cas, help me, he's choking!*

*SLAP*

*SLAP*

*Ptooey … GASP*

"Dean, you okay?"

*Groooooan …*

"Sam?"

"What, Cas?"

"I believe that Dean has found that silver sixpence you secreted in the pudding."

xxxxx

end


	19. Tell it like it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel never sugarcoats his words.

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

xxxxx

The potatoes were peeled, the carrots were sliced, and Dean was in his own personal heaven. He loved a traditional Christmas dinner, and he even more loved cooking his own feast for Sam and Cas to enjoy along with him.

He was so focussed on his task, he didn't hear Castiel's silent approach behind him until the angel spoke; "Dean…?"

"Hey Cas," Dean responded; "whats up?"

Castiel cocked his head, a bemused frown wrinkling his nose; "why do you have your hand inserted into the rectum of that dead bird?"

Dean sighed. They were so having steak for Christmas next year.

xxxxx

end


	20. The Dean Winchester Guide to the Perfect Christmas Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Perfect Christmas meal is a work of art, and Dean Winchester is the artist ...

THE DEAN WINCHESTER GUIDE TO A PERFECT CHRISTMAS MEAL

xxxxx

1\. Roast the potatoes and parsnips until they're crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.  
2\. Listen to Sam bitching about the amount of fat you use.  
3\. Drink beer.  
4\. Torment Sam with the turkey giblets (putting them in his coffee normally works a treat).  
5\. Don't forget to get some green shit to keep Sam happy.  
6\. Carve the turkey thinly and evenly; make constant references to breasts, thighs and legs while doing so to annoy Sam and embarrass Castiel.  
7\. Drink beer.  
8\. Sing carols loudly and obnoxiously, using inappropriate words.  
9\. Wait for Castiel to tell you that shepherds didn't wear socks back then.  
10\. Get the angel drunk and tell him his halo tastes of peanuts.  
11\. Under NO circumstances allow Sam to have extra sprouts.  
12\. Drink beer.  
13\. Watch Sam to set fire to his hair on a candle.  
14\. Make annual attempt on belching personal best (eight seconds is current record).  
15\. Instigate a food fight involving mashed potato, cranberry Jelly and leftover sprouts (the damn things have to be good for something).  
16\. Drink Sam's beer.  
17\. Try not to let on how much you love the two freaking dorks.

xxxxx

end


	21. The Cake of Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been baking. Results are mixed ...

THE CAKE OF CHAMPIONS

xxxxx

"I made us a Christmas cake Sammy."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah, it was cool; full of dried fruit and nuts with molasses, cinnamon and orange peel and a tiny hint of brandy to give it a kick."  
"Tiny hint?"  
"Yeah, you know, just a drop … well, a drizzle."  
"Really …?"  
"Only a measure, Sammy really; okay, maybe a double."  
"How much Dean?"  
"A bottle and a half."  
"Wait a minute – you said it WAS cool … what happened to it?"  
"It got squashed Sam. I took one sniff when it came out of the oven and passed out on top of it."

xxxxx

end


	22. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are friends and then there is Castiel.

THREE'S COMPANY

xxxxx

"Can't move," Dean groaned, stretching out across the couch and gifting Sam with an uninterrupted view of his grossly swollen belly protruding between his straining T-shirt and his undone jeans.

"That was one epic Christmas meal," he slurred.

"Not that I saw much of it," Sam snorted.

"Whad'ya mean," Dean grinned; "I let you have all the broccoli."

Sam's eyes flicked to Dean's bulging midriff. "When's it due?"

He grinned at Dean's returning scowl; "appropriate really, seeing as you were just eating for two."

"I forgot Cas doesn't eat," Dean replied; "didn't wanna waste anything after I cooked three helpings."

"So it's his fault," he added, pointing to the bemused angel with an affectionate grin.

Sam burrowed back into his armchair; "it was a great meal, Dean, I'm stuffed too."

"Feels good, don' it Sammy; we've gone hungry for too many Christmases. It's awesome to just be fat for a few days."

Within minutes both Winchesters were gently snoring, sleeping off their mighty feast.

Castiel stood up and stretched before strolling into the kitchen. Reaching into the cookie jar, he snagged a blueberry muffin.

"Angels can eat, Dean," he murmured to himself he munched contentedly; "but not when their friends need it more."

xxxxx

end


	23. The Call of the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's never been one to take the easy option ...

THE CALL OF THE WILD

xxxxx

"We should buy a Christmas tree Dean."

"Nah, that's lame. A real man goes out in the wilderness and chops his own tree down."

"Dean, I'm not sure if you've noticed; we're in the middle of Kansas – not many coniferous forests around here."

"That's where having your own angel buddy is handy, Sam; Cas is gonna zap me to Alaska."

LATER

*ring-ring*

"Dean?"

"Hey Sam."

"Dean, how's it going? D'y find a tree?"

"Yeah, nice big one."

"Have you cut it down?"

"Not yet. Actually, we're stuck up in it."

"Uh?"

"Yeah, there's a hungry grizzly waiting underneath it for us."

xxxxx

end


	24. It's Not Easy Being Santa

IT'S NOT EASY BEING SANTA

xxxxx

Santa and his chief elf were busy making final checks.

"Norris, what do I do about Dean Winchester?" he sighed, glancing at the letter in his hand; "he's done some terrible things."

"But he's done good too," Norris replied; "saved people, saved the world …"

"A tricky one," Santa concluded.

"What did he ask for?" Enquired Norris, "that might be the clincher."

"A grenade launcher," read Santa; "the Busty Asian Beauties Christmas edition, and a trumpet 'so I can piss Sam off'."

"Ah."

"Norris?"

"Yes sir?"

"Go to Rudolph's stall, and take a shovel. I know what this one's getting in his stocking."

xxxxx

end


	25. Let There be Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one job at Christmas everyone hates - how nice if you can offload it to a willing victim friend ...
> 
> WARNING: F-BOMBS GALORE!

LET THERE BE LIGHT

xxxxx

"Goddamnit to Hell Fuck Fucking Fuck!"

"Of all the … fucking damn and hellfire fucking FUCK!"

"Uh Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Castiel alright?"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck – you stupid piece of SHIT!"

*shrugs* "yeah, why?"

"Why?"

"OH FUCKING HELL!"

"Dean, what's with the language? It's kind of extreme for Castiel, don't you think?"

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

*grins*

"Dean … what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Dean …?"

"Well, I might have just told him that as he's a permanent resident here at the bunker now, this year it's his turn to untangle the Christmas tree lights …"

"OH I FUCKING GIVE UP!" *sob*

"Dean, I think you broke our angel."

xxxxx

end


	26. Not So Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's incapable of silence, even when he's sleeping ...

NOT SO SILENT NIGHT

xxxxx

Sam stared at Dean's sleeping form and sighed.

Sprawled across the couch, one arm dangling limply into an empty chocolate box on the floor, he was snoring heartily, sleeping the sleep of the truly inebriated, and drooling contentedly.

His feet dangled over the arm of the couch, the threadbare odd socks adorning them the same colour as the party hat that hung off his left ear, and his grossly distended belly, full to bursting with their Christmas feast, bulged over the waist of his jeans, gurgling menacingly as he scratched his nose and burped lavishly.

So much for a silent night.

xxxxx

end


	27. The Joy of Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always that one friend who's difficult to buy for.

THE JOY OF SOCKS

xxxxx

"Dean, what should we get Cas for Christmas?"  
"Socks?"  
"Damnit Dean, we've got him socks every year; let's try to show some imagination."  
"Okay, what about booze?"  
"He's an angel – he doesn't drink."  
"Skin mags?"  
"Dean, really? He's a freaking angel!"  
"I know! What about a harp?"  
"What?"  
"You said yourself, he's an angel! All angels play harps."  
"When have you ever seen Cas playing a goddamn harp?"  
"That's 'cause he hasn't got one!"  
"Do you really wanna sit here in the bunker listening to Cas plinking and plonking and strumming a frigging harp all day and night?"  
"Hmmm …"  
"Socks it is then."

xxxxx

end


	28. Clueless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing like a family board game after Christmas dinner. There's always that one knowall, though ...

CLUELESS

xxxxx

"Okay Sam, It's Professor Plum in the Library with the Lead Pipe."

"Dean, why would anyone commit murder with a length of lead piping in a library?"

"What are you talking about, Cas?"

"I am enquiring as to the wisdom of carrying a heavy and impractical length of lead piping, which is hazardous to human health, into a library for the purpose of dispatching someone, when you could easily do so with a well-aimed copy of 'War and Peace' ..."

"Damnit Cas, it's no great shakes; it's only a stupid game."

"… You would think a Professor could work that out for himself."

"Sam, pass the Whisky. NOW."

xxxxx

end


	29. The Gift that Says so Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That little exchange of gifts said so much without saying a word (and broke my heart). Missing scenes and, therefore, spoilers  
>  for AVSC (episode 3.8)

THE GIFT THAT SAYS SO MUCH

xxxxx

PART 1

It sucks working at the only store in town that opens Christmas Day; especially when your boyfriend's relaxing at home.  
Although my day improves when a young guy walks in; reeeaaal tall - and hot.  
He scans the shelves, eventually selecting a can of oil, a candy bar and a bottle of eggnog.  
He looks distracted.  
Juggles his shopping in a bandaged hand as he fumbles in his pocket.  
Definitely distracted.  
"Merry Christmas," I smile as I take his cash.  
He smiles back kindly, but the smile's forced; doesn't reach his eyes.  
Haunted eyes.  
"And happy new year, sir."  
The smile fades.

xxxxx

PART 2

I'm restocking soda and stifling a yawn when not long afterwards, another guy walks in; not quite as tall as the other one, but just as smokin' hot, even with a bruised and swollen cheek.  
He knows exactly what he wants; I watch as he grabs a can of shaving foam and a couple of those men's magazines  
Hands them to me without a hint of embarrassment.  
The smile he shoots me, it's complicated.  
Sad;  
Lonely;  
Angry;  
Frightened;  
I don't know what it is.  
I wish him Merry Christmas anyway.  
The smile wavers as he rushes out of the store.

xxxxx

end  
end


End file.
